


The Work Wife

by DiYunho



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Joker fandom, Suicide Squad (2016), The Joker - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, DC comics - Freeform, Drama, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Joker - Freeform, Light Angst, Mister Joker, Suicide Squad, The Joker & reader, The Joker - Freeform, The Joker Jared Leto, The Joker Suicide Squad, The Joker and you, The Joker fanfic, The King of Gotham, alpha female character, dc, the clown prince of crime - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:39:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiYunho/pseuds/DiYunho
Summary: You’ve been working for The Joker for the past 10 years: you speak and act for him and no matter the circumstances, Y/N is always there to take care of everything he needs.  The King of Gotham might not be married, yet he has a perfect partner: his work wife.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

“Are you making coffee?” The Joker’s raspy voice makes you aware of his presence in the kitchen.

“I literally just got here,” you gather your long hair in a ponytail and glance his way, immediately noticing the dark circles matching the tired blue eyes. “Rough night?” you sarcastically inquire, searching for his favorite coffee flavor among the numerous pods displayed on the counter.

“Don’t nag me!” he growls at Y/N’s entitled smirk she’s not even trying to hide. “I have somebody in the master bedroom; I want her gone by the time I’m out of the shower, OK?” J adjusts the towel wrapped around his waist, heading towards one of the bedrooms downstairs.

“Consider it done!” and by the time the shower turns on you’re already sprinting up the staircase leading towards the second floor of the Penthouse. The door to the master bedroom is cracked opened and you kick it, the girl he spent the night with startled to see you there.

You don’t seem very friendly in your perfectly tailored black suit to say the least; the gun visible from under your jacket makes you even more intimidating. The fact that you look like you want to kill everybody on the planet doesn’t score extra points with the guest. She gathers the purple sheets around her body, nervously biting her lip.

“Get dressed and beat it!” you sneer, pointing at her clothes scattered on the floor.

“Umm…but Mister Joker said he’s going to show me his stamp collection,” she shyly tries to bring it to your attention.

Oh wow! Where does he find these gems?!

You bend over and grab her bra, barely holding it with two fingers and toss it on top of the covers:

“Does he look like the type that has a stamp collection?! Hurry up, I don’t have all day. If he comes back and you’re still here, it’s not going to be pretty!”

The girl is still hesitating.

“Suit yourself then,” you cross your arms on your chest. “I can definitely carry you; you seem light,” you lift your eyebrows with the most sour tone you can muster.

“C-carry me?…” she stammers, uneasy at the sinister grin creeping up on your face.

“He’ll probably kill you and I’ll have to get rid of the body. I’ve dealt with heavier corpses before; no worries,” the sound of the cracked neck you’re stretching making the woman jump out of bed like she’s on fire.

You’ve never seen anybody dressing up so fast before!

She’s out of the Penthouse in under 5 minutes, possibly a new record since you like to keep track for your own amusement.

After finishing the morning routine, The Joker comes out of the bathroom in his boxers and you wait for him at the door, handing over his coffee mug.

“We need to hurry! Your meeting is at 11am and there’s heavy traffic on the freeway,” the warning doesn’t make him happy.

“I don’t like to be rushed!” J protests but starts sipping from the cup and follows you in the walk-in closet, dragging his feet on the soft carpets.

“I’m aware,” you quickly agree. “I heard the stamp collection made a triumphant return,” you keep on searching through his outfits and The Joker snorts, amused.

You’re not nearly as amused as he is.

“You need a girlfriend,” you grouchily enunciate, hoping there’s a soul out there that could theoretically put up with his crap.

“What for?” he lifts his shoulders up, drinking more coffee. “I already have somebody that annoys me every day and she’s been doing it perfectly for the past 10 years.”

J’s statement is being ignored so he has to get some kind of reaction.

The Clown Prince of Crime is obnoxious like that.

“Remind me again why we never hit it off?” J teases even if he already knows the answer.

“Because I’m madly in love with you and if we get together you’ll break my heart and I’m not in the mood for drama,” you recite the same monotonous lines you always do when he asks the question.

“The lack of passion in your voice hints towards the opposite,” he scoffs and you finally find something he might want to wear.

“Purple or silver?” you pick two shirts from the multitude of clothes and his finger points towards the hanger in your left hand.

“Purple,” The Joker choses and begins dressing with the black pants already waiting for him on the sofa.

“I doubt it,” you mumble to yourself and actually keep the silver shirt, patiently waiting behind him as he zips up his pants.

“Actually, I’ll take the silver one,” The Joker changes his mind and your hand instantly goes in front of him with the required garment you correctly guessed he’ll want. “Sometimes you freak me out,” J snatches the shirt from your fingers, giving you a mean glare. You don’t engage since that’s what he wants: to start a quarrel.

“I’m taking tonight off,” a composed Y/N helps him put on the jacket and adjusts the collar in the process, making sure he looks flawless.

“Why?”

“I have a date,” the flat response makes him pucker his lips.

“With who?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Which one?” J sucks on his silver teeth.

“The only one I have and been with for the past year. I like relationships, comparing with other people that don’t even remember the name of the person they slept with the previous evening,” you nonchalantly bring it up and he shoves you towards the elevator, aggravated.

“Don’t nag me!!”  
**************

The meeting at “Savage“ club is not going well. The place is closed during the day, only the bar opened when the owner visits for meetings: The King of Gotham is pissed and you can tell by the way he blinks, not that the wanna be business partner noticed.

“I think that if we split the profit…” the guy keeps on yapping, unaware of the danger.

“Shut up!!!” you suddenly interrupt Max and he’s baffled. “You’re making him angry! You either talk about something he wants to hear or get lost,” the stern voice informs.“Mister Joker is a busy person, he doesn’t have time for nonsense.”

Max expects your boss to intervene but nothing happens: you speak and act for him and have been for years.

The newbie clearly didn’t do this homework.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea,” he clumsily apologizes and directs the conversation towards a better topic, changing the terms of the offer.

Your attention switches towards the waitress bringing in a glass of grape juice that J requested 10 minutes ago. Not a familiar girl, must be new.

She is anxious and wants to give the drink to him when you unexpectedly grab her wrist, digging your nails in her skin.

“You never hand him anything before giving it to me first, understand?” you growl and she whimpers in pain. “Stay still !” you firmly hold her arm and take out a small vial out of your pocket. One drop of that liquid in the grape juice, then you wait for a few a seconds. “All good, he can have it,” you conclude since it’s not poisoned.

Y/N always checks if J’s beverages have been tampered with; obviously nobody told the new waitress and that’s unacceptable! You’ll definitely have to organize a staff meeting and make sure everyone is on the same page.

In the meantime, the conversation went on in the background, meaning Max kept on running his mouth and The Joker carefully listened and sorted out the main parts, debating on the proposed transaction.

“Fine,” he decides to consider the suggested deal. “You’ll take Y/N tomorrow to your place so she can inspect the merchandise, then she’ll report to me and we’ll take it from there.”

“Of course sir,” the guy is fast to agree, hopeful he can do some lucrative business with The Clown Prince of Crime.

***************

The Joker can’t sleep; insomnia strikes again and you’re not there to make the tea that helps him rest. You’re on a date again and he couldn’t care less. Why would he?

He slides the screen of his phone, yawning:

“Call wife.”

“Did you mean work wife?” Siri corrects him because that’s how you’re listed on his cell.

“What’s the difference?!” he snarls, antagonized. “Yeah, call work wife. Video conference,” J commands, waiting for the camera to show something else besides the picture uploaded as your avatar.

After three rings a very dolled up Y/N pops up, not thrilled her night out is being interrupted by the green haired menace.

“Hi. What’s going on?” you tuck your hair behind your ears while your boyfriend’s laugh is heard in the distance: you had to abandon your table at the restaurant and run outside on the terrace in order to take the call.

“I want my tea,” J pouts and rubs his eyes, displeased at your attitude.

“I’m on a date!” you hiss and he’s not delighted.

“So?! I can’t sleep. Come make my tea!!”

“I see you’re in my apartment,” you recognize the surroundings on camera.

“It’s literally my apartment, I own the building,” he explains as if that gives him the right to barge in there anytime he feels like it.

You live in the quarters right below the Penthouse, this way you’re never too far. He drops by uninvited or unannounced all the damn time.

“You can make the tea yourself then,” you find the perfect solution and guide him. “Go to the kitchen…open the third cupboard to your left…. Your other left!!!” you watch him open the wrong cabinet. “You should know where stuff is by now!!”

“Don’t fucking yell at me, woman!” The Joker shouts, taking out the box of tea bags.“You should be doing this! I don’t know what else to add.”

“Honey,” you mumble, distracted by Kai that gestures to get your attention since the food arrived. 

“Bullshit! I’m sure you sprinkle God knows what in there so you can put me to sleep permanently!” J slams a porcelain cup on the counter, nosing around the perimeter like he always does.

You sigh, resigned:

“Our food arrived and Kai is waiting. I’ll see you in the morning before I go and check Max’s merchandise, ok? Good night!” and you press the red button on the screen, ending the dialogue.

“The nerve she has!” The Joker talks to himself, appalled at your bold action. “Making me do my own tea,” he keeps on complaining even if you’re not present to witness the agony.

****************

1 in the morning and you’re finally returning to your place. The stilettos clicking on the wooden floors echo in the perfect silence as you are entering your bedroom. You take off the sandals and The Joker’s bitter tone makes you jump:

“There you are!”

You turn on the light just to see J lying in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing more than his favorite shorts.

“You’re still here?!” you crinkle your nose, fed up with his behavior.

“The tea didn’t work!” he argues, showing you the empty mug on the night stand. “I’m tired and can’t wind down!”

You know what that means and what he wants. Not the first or the last time this will happen. Yet you still attempt to reason with him:

“You should go back to the Penthouse, only one floor up. I’m exhausted myself and I have to rest since I have work to do tomorrow.”

“Nope, my only chance of having a decent sleep now is to have somebody besides me. You’re the only one around at this hour,” The Joker lists his hardships and requirements to a weary Y/N that realizes he won’t budge.

“You’re lucky my boyfriend is not jealous,” you take a deep breath and turn around, the backless gold dress exposing the tattoo you got a month ago: five rows of Kanji Japanese alphabet, your first and only ink. Goes well with the scars you got from the 10 years in his service: three bullet wounds and two stabbing marks and they are just the visible ones around the tattoo; there are others scattered on your toned frame.

“Are you ever gonna tell me what that tattoo means?” J watches you step towards the bathroom, snapping a picture of your back.

“I told you it’s personal,” you peak from behind the door before closing it so you can take a quick shower.

Doesn’t take more than 20 minutes to get ready for bed and put on your green PJ’s with purple skulls.

“Scoot over,” you address him since he’s still in the middle of the bed. J moves a bit and you get under the covers, his hand going around your waist but still keeps a few inches between the bodies.

That’s what he usually does and nothing else: if he doesn’t have a woman for the night or if the tea doesn’t work, he will come and bug you to sleep in the same bed because The Great Joker can’t sleep alone.

“Did you have sex?” he pokes in your personal life, eyelids getting heavy since he’s exhausted. 

“It’s none of your concern,” you whisper and turn off the lamp.

“Oh, so you did,” he maliciously snickers. You slap his hand and elaborate a bit more:

“At least I know his name because I’ve been sleeping with the same guy for a while now. Comparing to some other people that need a steady girlfriend and…”

“Don’t nag me!” J interrupts your speech. “I’m too tired for your bickering.”

***************

The next day, The Joker stays at the hideout near Skyfall Bridge while you went with Max to check on the ammunition The Joker wants to buy from him.

“Frost,” he addresses the henchman, “do we have anybody that knows Japanese? I’m bored and want to check something.”

“I believe Richard does, sir,” Jonny searches his mind for more names but that’s the only person that could help on the spot. Richard is Panda’s real name, currently on a mission in Los Angeles and a simple text sent to him could solve the mystery of your tattoo.

Despite the environment you’re accustomed to, you never got any tattoos, except the one inked on your back last month and refused to disclose the translation.

J was pretty curious on what it might mean and now he has the opportunity to investigate; it’s not imperative for his existence, but might as well dig out the answer since he has nothing better to do for the moment. 

He sends a message to Panda, attaching the picture of your back:

“Translate this.”

After a few seconds, replies keep on popping up on The Joker’s phone screen.

“At a first glance I thought it was a Haiku, but it’s not. Whoever this was very clever in choosing the pattern and hiding the true meaning behind the characters.”

Sounds like her, J thinks quite intrigued.

One more text:

“The tattoo is actually a personal statement, sir. It reads: I’m madly in love with you and if we get together you’ll break my heart and I’m not in the mood for drama.”

A snort, followed by a dreadful chuckle, then his insane laughter resonates all over the building.

“That crazy woman!” The Joker cracks up, totally surprised. “The only tattoo on her and she got that!” He texts you right away:

“I know what the tattoo means.”

You are currently in the car with Max and he’s driving you to his warehouse on the other side of town; Gotham’s outskirts are about 2 hours away and you still have a good 30-45 minutes before you are out of Pinewood Forest. You dial Kai’s number again and no answer. You’ve been trying to get a hold of him since you woke up and find it strange because your boyfriend is normally very fast in returning your calls. 

You take a sip from your Pepsi can, then place it in the cup holder in between the seats when J’s text shows up on your phone:

“I know what the tattoo means.”

You smile and text back, entertained he finally figured it out:

“I thought you would appreciate the joke.”

This bitch smiles? Max glances your way without you noticing, hoping to fulfil the plan he’s been working on with others for the past half a year. He’s nervous and struggles to conceal his emotions because what he’s about to do takes a lot of courage: messing with The Joker is a dangerous matter.

You keep on texting back and forth with J and Max discretely drops a tiny pill in your Pepsi can, almost losing his cool when your hand reaches for the drink: the asshole thought he got busted. But you just finish your pop while calling Kai again, upset he’s not picking up. 

“Not too much longer and we’re out of the woods,” Max tries to make conversation again.

You are silent and stare outside, vexed with the guy: there’s this aura about him you can’t stand.

“As a token of my appreciation and business partnership, I have a present for you in the trunk,” he addresses an indifferent Y/N.

“I don’t like presents,” you snarl, moving your finger and toes since they feel numb: you probably need to stretch. You vision is getting blurry and you rub your eyes; the tingling sensation in your body intensifies and you start coughing.

“I know you check Mister Joker’s drinks all the time, but do you ever check yours?” the smirk on Max’s face makes you realize something is off. Your motion is impaired and before you can react in any way, he snatches the knife from his jacket and pushes it through your cheek, blood instantly splattering on the windows.

You feel your jaw and tongue being cut and scream in pain, not expecting such an attack. You choke in your own blood and even if paralysis is taking over you fight back: you use all the strength you have left to quickly pull the knife out of your face and impale his neck. The knife severs through his throat and the sharp end sticks out on the other side, Max not anticipating the vicious attack from the wounded and weakened Y/N. He’s starting to lose control of the car but he still tries to hit you, his breathing as erratic as yours. You yank at the steering wheel with one hand and use the other to twist the sharp blade in his neck, almost unconscious from the drug.

The SUV crashes in the trees on the side of the road and the impact makes both bodies move forward like rag dolls, the seat belts being the only security measure preventing further damage. For Max it doesn’t make a difference anymore: he’s dead on the spot.

Your grip on reality is also diminishing with alarming velocity, blood gushing out of your stabbed jaw and you can’t discern the throbbing ache anymore: whatever you ingested spread fast and you don’t have much time before it completely takes over. You manage to open the door and crawl outside, hardly mustering the force to control your hand and search for the phone inside of your pocket. You want to use the voice command, but you can’t talk anymore. The bloody fingers slide the screen and touch the first name on your phone: work husband.

That’s how The Joker is listed in “Contacts”.

He promptly picks up. 

“Yes? What’s going on?”

Nothing but gurgling noises and wheezing, then quietness.

“Hello?” he tries again and no sounds come from the other end of the line. J frowns, pressing GPS locator app. “Find wife,” J orders and Siri needs to make sure:

“Did you mean work wife?”

“Yes, work wife! What’s the fucking difference?!” he gets annoyed with the smart phone.

“Locating work wife,” the voice announces, narrowing the map to smaller and smaller portions until the signal from your cell is pinpointed on the screen.

“Frost!” J gets Jonny’s attention. “Y/N is supposed to be in a moving car. Why isn’t she moving?”

“I’m not sure, sir. Did they take a shortcut though? The road going through Pinewood Forest is deserted and nobody uses it anymore.”

They look at each other and J gets up from his chair, having a bad feeling about the whole situation:

“I want a crew ready in 5 minutes!”

*****************

It wasn’t pretty when they find you: The Joker fumed at the sight of Y/N covered in blood, her face sliced up and barely clinging to life. And when they thought things couldn’t look worse, Kai’s dead body was discovered in the trunk of the SUV when they swept the area.

That’s why he didn’t answer your calls; he was murdered and you didn’t even know your boyfriend was actually in the same car with you the whole time.

J knew Max couldn’t have been the one plotting whatever scheme he didn’t get a chance to fulfill; The Clown Prince of Crime was certain other individuals were involved and he intended to get to the bottom of the conspiracy. No doubt the plan’s purpose was to bring down J’s reign over Gotham: not the first or the last attempt. They probably wished to start with a warning of some kind since the doctors found out that the drug you were given was wasn’t poison, but a very powerful tranquilizer.

The medical team had to perform reconstructive surgery on your tongue since half of it was sliced with the knife; your left jaw was wired and stitched together, a few metal bolts drilled in the gums, this way it can heal correctly. You were placed into an induced coma and fed through a gastric tube because you couldn’t eat anyway. The doctor in charge said it’s the best option for three months or so until they can wake you up and switch your diet on soft foods and nutritional shakes.

Who knows what was meant for you, but your skills were underestimated: Max found that out first hand.

Just like The Joker keeps on saying when he visits at the private clinic you were taken:

“My old girl is not that easy to bring down,” and you can’t even fight the remark. You would probably point out that 35 is the new 30 and J would scoff, underlining that any woman over 30 is old to him. Not that he believes that, but it’s fun to mock and being a jerk suits him.

You had a nervous breakdown when you were brought back to reality and find out Kai was gone. You blamed yourself for his death: your boyfriend was a target because of his connection to you and indirectly, The Joker. There’s nothing worse than surviving a terrible fate and the man you love doesn’t.

*************

You were released from the clinic yesterday and returned to your apartment bellow the Penthouse. It’s 10pm and The King of Gotham wants to see how you’re holding up. Plus, he has insomnia again and Y/N is the only one around to help out with that after the long absence.

He enters the code on the electronic pin pad at your door.

“Access denied,” the flat voice makes him growl.

He tries again. Same thing:

“Access denied.”

“What the fuck?” J cusses and takes the exit around the south corner of the building leading to your terrace. He tries to get in and the sliding doors are sealed, the curtains cover the glass and nothing can be detected on the other side. He calls your cell:

“This number can’t be reached,” the automatic answer makes him cringe; nothing left to do but grab a small rock from the ones surrounding the pond you have on your balcony and break the glass, creating a gap enough to fit his hand and unlock the latch.

The Joker is inside and walks straight to your bedroom. The door is wide opened, only some candles burn in the darkness.

“What are you doing?” J asks when he sees you on the floor with your back against the dresser. So many tissues around you and he can tell you’ve been crying. “You changed the code?! Why is your cell phone off?!”

“I want to be alone,” you mutter and he can barely understand since you can’t open your mouth to talk: your stitched jaw doesn’t permit a wide range of motion. You keep on wiping tears and he feels the need to sincerely criticize:

“If you’re worried about the scar, don’t worry. I’m OK looking at it: you’ve never been a stunning beauty and it’s not like it ruined your appearance.”

You didn’t even pay attention to the stupid joke.

“Did you eat?” The Joker kicks your leg and you lift your head to gaze at him.

“I can’t eat,” the muffled words make him gesture towards the numerous cases of protein and vitamin shakes stored around the room.

“I know you can’t eat regular food yet, but these are good enough for now.”

You blow your nose as he sniffs the air around.

“Did you take a shower today?”

“I want to be alone,” you repeat and he pretends to be deaf.

“Come on, a bath will make you feel better. I won’t look, I promise,” he pulls you up against your will, forcing a miserable Y/N towards the bathroom.

You don’t care if he sees you naked or not, that’s not the problem; you just want to be on your own and grieve without him bothering you.

“I’m closing my eyes now,” and he does, taking off the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “Take off your undies and I’ll turn on the water. I’m not a perv like you, don’t worry.”

You know what he’s referring to: you saw him naked before and not because you tried to. J thought you’ll be shocked to see him coming out of the shower with nothing on but you rolled your eyes and concluded:

“I guess you need boxers also,” and started digging in one of the drawers in his closet for the item. You didn’t seem embarrassed at all and it annoyed him. He had to say it:

“Now that you’ve seen perfection, try to find a boyfriend who can top this!”

“Perfection?” you handed over a pair of boxers to the proud Joker. “You have the same components as any other man on the planet.”

“You’re pissing me off!” he grumbled and pushed you out of the bedroom, mad not too many things phased you. “Components!” you heard J huff before he slammed the door in your face.

****************  
“I want to be alone,” you reiterate when you see that he is making himself comfortable in bed after finishing your bath.

“I can’t sleep; I even tried the tea and it had no effect. Having a warm body besides me will work wonders,” The Joker pats your stack of pillows, inviting Y/N in her own personal space.

“Kai is dead and do you think I give a shit that you can’t sleep? Go back to your place!” you stutter, fustrated you can’t pronounce the words appropriately. Tears of indignation roll down your face and he tugs on your hand, compelling you to slide under the covers.

“I have no idea what you just said,” J holds on to your waist and you wiggle, wanting to escape his grip. You start bawling and he squeezes you in his arms, feeling you’re gradually hug him back. Y/N can’t stop crying and the only thing The Joker can do is comfort his upset wife.

Well, work wife.

What’s the difference anyway?


	2. Chapter 2

The Joker keeps on looking at the numerous guns displayed on the wall, not knowing what to choose. The place is enormous: Gotham underworld’s best supplied weaponry dungeon and The Clown Prince of Crime is by far the number one customer.

“Do you need help Mister Joker?” the owner offers his help since he noticed J is taking longer than usual. “Are you searching for a collectible or everyday use?”

“None; it’s for my wife,” the green haired man continues to stare at the ammunition, still debating.

“Oh, I didn’t know you’re married Mister Joker,” the guy prepares to congratulate J on his nuptials when he gets cut off:

“I’m not!”

The owner is more than confused and The King of Gotham finally makes a decision:

“I think she’ll like this one,” he takes a gun out of the display case and slams a stack of hundred dollar bills on a box nearby.

“Would you like me to gift wrap this for you?”

“It’s a gun, not a ring,” J cracks his neck, placing the new acquired item inside the empty holster under his purple coat. “I’ll just give it to her!”

***************

The Joker enters the code on the pin pad and sneaks into your apartment holding a small container in his right hand.

“Hey Y/N, are you awake?” he stomps towards the master bedroom and realizes it’s empty once at the opened door. “Y/N! Where are you?” J inspects the condo room by room, his heavy steps being the only noise disrupting the perfect silence.

Why is it so dark in here? he wonders while pressing the light switch in the kitchen.

“There you are!” the person of interest is seen sitting on a chair at the table; your puffy eyes and red face are a sign you’ve been crying again. “You didn’t hear me?” J approaches and places the small container in front of a tearful Y/N. “Did you eat?”

You nod a no and he pushes the box closer.

“I sent Frost to get you mashed potatoes from that fancy new restaurant downtown,” J continues to talk, ignoring the framed picture you’re holding: a selfie of you and Kai taken just a few days before he was murdered. “Plus this,” he slides the gun on the smooth surface and bites on his cheek when there’s no reaction. “Would you like to try it?”

“No…” you barely utter and glare at the table, hoping The Joker will go up one floor to his penthouse and leave you alone for the evening; you’re definitely not in the mood for company. “Maybe later…” and it sounds fake yet he pretends not to notice.

“Eat,” J pushes a chair next to yours and opens the box, stabbing the potatoes with the plastic spoon found inside. “You said you can eat soft foods now. Which is good because I’m sure you’re sick and tired of protein shakes, hm?”

He narrows his eyes as soon as you reply:

“I’m not hungry.”

Instead of wasting time by repeating himself, The Joker grabs the spoon, scoops out some food and brings it to your lips. The frustrated glare you’re giving him doesn’t have any effect upon its recipient.

“You do realize I never did this for anybody, right?” he growls at your defiance. “Eat!” and you have no other option now besides accepting to be fed. You slowly chew on the morsel, completely annoyed he keeps on bothering you when solitude is everything you desire. 

“Do you want me to patch you up?” J hints at your stitched jaw.

“No; it’s healing well and the doctor said there’s no need,” you report and swallow the mashed potatoes, immediately followed by another spoonful. “I can do it,” you snatch the spoon out of his hand and start eating on your own.

“What about the bolts in your jaw?”

“They’ll stay in there,” you whisper and forcefully nibble on the mushy pile.

“You don’t look uglier with that badass scar on your cheek,” the truth as seen by The Joker emerges. “If anything, it makes you more intimidating.”

“I don’t care about how it makes me look like,” you wipe your eyes and hold the picture tighter.

“How’s the tongue?” another question pops up; and you thought he was done.

“It’s ok, still hurts a bit…”

“At least now I understand what you’re saying. For a while it was atrocious and I didn’t like the extra work of guessing your words,” J rambles on and you get up from your chair, indirectly suggesting he should get lost.

“Thank you for the food and for the gun. I’m going to sleep; good night.”

You are almost out of the kitchen when The Joker stops you:

“Hey Y/N, you know what I always say?”

You turn around and mumble:

“You say a lot of things.”

“Fair enough,” he scoffs and specifies what he meant: “It’s been 4 months since the unfortunate events. So when I stipulate that if I don’t trust you I don’t need you and you are one of the very few people I trust, what does that mean?”

Oh great, he’s gonna play that card, you think and articulate:

“That you need me.”

“Precisely. I need my old girl back to do things for me.”

“I’m not old,” you grumble and he grins, satisfied you took the bait.

It’s been a while and he sort of misses the feuds. 

“You’re 35, Y.N. Literally ancient for my standards.”

“You don’t have any standards,” you point out and J huffs, pleased he can finally say it again:

“Don’t nag me!”

*************

The Joker finishes his shower and the smell of coffee in the air is a clear sign of your presence in the penthouse.

Goody, he smirks and gets into his boxers, rushing out of the bathroom. The coffee mug is offered right away by a gloomy Y/N, dressed in one of her usual black suits and J also spots the new gun he got you last night.

“You wanna wear a suit today?” you inquire and dig around his clothes, waiting for the confirmation.

“Yeah.”

“Purple, silver or green?”

“Green.”

That would be the day, you reckon since he’s wearing purple boxers.

You won’t catch The Joker even dead not matching his clothes perfectly.

You ignore J’s wish and choose the hanger with one of his purple suits while he digs in his jewelry box for some gold rings.

“Actually Y/N, I want a purp…” and the correct assemble is shoved in his arms before he finishes the sentence. “You’re freaking me out!” The Joker hisses your way because you consistently guess on what he wants.

“Yes, you do seem terrified,” you reckon and the dull tone in your voice makes him snarl:

“I said I need you back, but I didn’t say I need the attitude too!”

“Of course sir,” you are fast to agree and he’s not buying it.

“Shut up!”

You stare at each other for a few seconds and since you’re not bickering, he orders:

“You’re driving me to the warehouse on the 11th avenue; I have a meeting!”

“I’ll be in the garage waiting,” you head over towards the elevator and the displeased employer criticizes:

“I think the 4 months absence messed with you head.”

You twist on your high heels and return by his side, helping J put on the jacket and then run your fingers though his hair, making sure no rebel strands are sticking out.

“Happy now?” you double check because you did skip to help him like you usually would.

“I’m on cloud nine!” The Joker barks and you seem about to blur out something he’s not going to approve. “Don’t nag me!” he cuts you off before you have a chance to vociferate your valid perception on the matter.

**************

Your boss is negotiating with Ness, one of his regular business partners and the soda you requested upon arrival is finally here. The waitress enters the VIP room and soundlessly tiptoes your way, not willing to disturb the meeting. Before your fingers touch the glass full of Pepsi, J seizes the container, turning his attention towards the girl.

“You don’t give her anything before you give it to me first, is that clear?” those mad eyes make the woman shiver. “Tell everyone is the new rule!” he emphasizes and she runs out of the VIP room, anxious about being the messenger for her co-workers.

J digs in your pocket and takes out the ampule you usually use to check if his drinks have been tampered with. One small drop is leaked in the glass and after a few seconds Y/N is sipping on her Pepsi, surprised at J’s action.

“We all know what happened 4 months ago when your drink was rigged,” the commentary follows immediately. “Your beverages have to be checked also,” he grinds his teeth and can’t believe you’re not fighting him on that.

“OK,” the unexpected compliance gives Ness the courage to finally address you.

It’s a well-known fact he has an unrequited crush on you.

“It’s good to see you’re alright, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you flatly respond because you have a feeling J is not going to pass on the opportunity.

He sure doesn’t.

“Don’t even think about it,” he taps his cane on the marble floor. “She’s still in mourning but I’m next in line.”

Ness gulps, afraid he got on J’s bad side with his little remark while you frown, not comprehending what he’s trying to accomplish.

“Y/N is crazy about me,” The King of Gotham boasts and requires your assistance. “What’s that phrase you keep on wooing me with?” he snaps his fingers, pretending not to remember.

Aahhh, that.

“I’m madly in love with you and if we get together you’ll break my heart and I’m not in the mood for drama,” you play along, for the first time in weeks wanting to smile.

But you don’t.

“That’s it!” J underlines. “So I have to suffer in silence until she’ll be ready for me. No other applicants are accepted!” he sneers at the puzzled Ness.

The mobster is not sure on how to react: you and The Joker give him unsettling glares and he awkwardly apologizes:

“Ummm…I’m…I’m so sorry, I wasn’t implying anything.”

“I think you were,” J leans over in his armchair towards the nervous guest. “I’ll take 25% extra from the deal if you want me to consider more future arrangements.”

“Twenty…five?…” Ness quickly calculates in his mind: it sure is a lot of extra money The Clown Prince of Crime will get from the transaction.

“Is there a problem?” you prey on his hesitation and Frost straightens his back in front of the exit.

Ness feels cornered and has no other choice:

“No problem here.”

“Good, because I would hate to see you go,” the eerie grin on your face suggests you were probably ready to put a bullet though his skull if the balance wouldn’t have switched towards The Joker’s benefit.

There she is, J contemplates your behavior, actually delighted to have the woman that’s been working for him since she was 25 make such a triumphant return. Yet he still discerns the pain hiding behind her tired eyes.

Even someone like him is aware she’s only wearing a mask in order to conceal her broken heart.

**************

You arrived at the penthouse 10 minutes ago and you’re opening cabinets in a frenzy, making a mental note on what it should be replenished in the kitchen.

The Joker scratches his thigh, playing with the elastic of his sweatpants. He’s been watching you for a while and you are so absorbed by your chore everything else has been mentally blocked. Including his presence.

“It’s 7 am, Y/N. Why aren’t you at your place sleeping, hm?” J scolds because he’s not a morning person and hates that you have so much energy as soon as you’re up.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you look over your shoulder at the unstyled mop of toxic green hair and halt what you’re doing because something is off.

You can tell from a mile away.

“Yes?” you give him your undivided attention because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for.

“I got married last night,” The Joker confesses and you smack your lips, untroubled by the news.

“Did you?”

A folded piece of paper is being handed to you and big surprise: it’s from one of the dinky drive –thru chapels scattered all over Gotham, the type of place where drunk people go when they’re wasted and think they have it all figured out. Not even a legit, accredited business; it’s just for fun.

J doesn’t drink alcohol which means he really wanted to party with somebody if he went through the trouble. And you could bet a million dollars the inebriated one was the brand new Mrs. Joker.

“Fix it!” J commands and you can’t help but reprimand his conduct.

“Why, you don’t want to stay married?” the sassy question prompts him to chuckle.

“What for? I already consumed my marriage and I don’t like to keep used toys.”

Y/N rubs her temples, not sure if out of amusement or frustration.

Maybe both?!

“Just fix it!”

You rip the imitation marriage certificate to pieces and scatter the remains in the garbage.

“Congratulations, you’re a bachelor again! I’ll get rid of her.”

The 27 year old woman stretching under the sheets in the master bedroom hears the steps coming towards the opened door and expects to see the man she spent the night with. Instead, there’s this menacing lady in a black suit barging in and the deep scar on her cheek adds even more to the feral aura she has.

The gun you’re holding makes the girl shrivel up and giving her present situation, she’s not sure if she should move or not.

“W-who are you?” she gets the courage to inquire since you’re blankly staring her down.

“I’m The Joker’s work wife and I don’t like competition; I’m a very jealous person,” you growl and toss a small notebook close to her hand. “But I’m willing to share because if you take care of certain stuff it would give me a break from everyday routine. There’s a pen in there,” you gesture towards the notepad. “I’ll give you a few tips on how to handle him and pay attention because your survival depends on this!”

She gulps, hesitantly doing as told because she doesn’t have other options for the moment. You start rambling on about a bunch of things J likes and doesn’t like, one detail more insane than the next one.

The fun fact is that they’re all true.

“Did you get that?” you pause to check on her.

The young woman is completely overwhelmed since she didn’t realize the seriousness of getting involved with someone as twisted as your employer.

“You better pay attention because he’ll be here in 30 minutes and quiz you on what you’ve learn. If you don’t pass the test, you’re history.”

“W-what?…”

She seems so shocked it makes you feel sorry for her.

You take the safety off your pistol and aim at the pillow next to hers, offering a solution:

“If you feel you’re not prepared enough to pass the test…Then maybe you should just scram before they find your body in a ditch!”

The Joker is playing with the cereals in his bowl and watches you calmly enter the kitchen.

“I’m saddened to inform that your wife left you,” the sentence makes him snort.

“Such a shame,” he utters with cocky disappointment. “I briefly had a very pretty better half, don’t you agree?”

The attitude you display insinuates objection and J feeds off your resentment like he usually does.

“Stop being so morbid! I’ll have a surprise for you soon that will cheer you up.”

“I don’t like surprises!”

“You’ll like this one,” he discloses and pours more milk in his bowl.

Great, you sigh without any enthusiasm left because you’re not in the mood for his games.

**************

12:17 in the morning and insomnia keeps The King of the city wide awake. No feminine company for the night and you already made him chamomile tea almost 3 hours ago. Didn’t have any effect whatsoever and the only solution now is to sleep in the same bed with you, this way his brain can shut down.

J enters the code on the pin pad and lets himself in like he usually does, yawning on the way to your bedroom when some kind of movement he catches with the corner of his eye makes his attention turn towards the terrace.

“Shit!” he freezes for a few moments when he spots you walking on the thin concrete railing of the balcony, clearly distressed.

The Joker hastens outside on the patio, hearing you talk to yourself as you keep on pacing up and down the flimsy railing, barely maintaining your balance.

“What are you doing Y/N?” J bites on his lip and waits for you to stop and look his way.

“I’m having a rough night,” you sniffle and tighten the fluffy robe around your body.”This relaxes me.”

“Dangling from the 29th floor relaxes you? Get down!” he offers his help and you don’t comply.

“Why? Are you afraid I’m gonna jump?” the glossy eyes are solid proof you’re indeed having a difficult time again.

“No, I’m afraid you’ll slip and fall,” J grabs your waist and forcefully pulls you down in his arms, holding you captive for a few moments. “What’s going on, hm?”

“I miss Kai…” you whisper and take deep breaths, trying to keep it together.

“It’s chilly; how long have you been outside?” he interrupts your sorrowful revelation.

“I’m not sure…”

“Come on,” he drags you after him and once back inside, you are taken in front of the fireplace in the living room and pushed on the pillows and blankets he stacks there in a hurry.

“The reason you’re here is because you can’t sleep, isn’t it?” you watch The Joker getting under the comforter and he acknowledges the truth:

“Yeah.”

“I wish you would leave me alone,” the depressed Y/N pleads to a deaf Joker.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” he mumbles. “I have to rest. Ugh, you’re so cold!” J gets goosebumps when you snuggle to him just because he’s warm and it’s comforting.

Despite the objection, he holds you glued to him anyway.

Up one floor at the Penthouse, his phone goes off with a text message from Frost:

“It’s all ready to go, sir.”

*************

Same morning, 9AM

The Joker takes the cell phone from the coffee table next to him and shrieks:

“Call wife.”

“Did you mean work wife?” Siri questions his choice for the last time.

“What’s the goddamned difference??!!!” he yells at his cell and fumes: “Frost, I need a new phone!”

Jonny is digging around in some ammo boxes and assures his boss he’ll take care of it.

“Of course Mister J. Is yours broken?”

The Clown Prince of Crime slams his iPhone on the floor, fed up with the ordeal of having a machine doubting his choice of words every single time he tries to reach you. The screen cracks and a few pieces dismantle to its owner’s satisfaction:

“It is now!! Get me another brand!”

Frost is certain the same problem will arise no matter the phone if The Joker doesn’t change your contact name to “wife” instead of “work wife”, but he can’t make any comments.

“Gimme your cell!” he snaps and the requested item is in his possession now.

You’re surprised when you answer your phone and instead of Jonny’s voice you hear J’s.

“How come you’re using Frost’s cell?” you casually mention during the conversation.

“Mine had a technical malfunction; I’ll get another one by the end of the day. Come meet me at the storage we have in the west side of District 14.”

“I just woke up. You left early?”

“Yes, around 6 am.”

Weird, he’s not a morning person.

“OK, I’ll be on my way shortly.”

“Hurry up!” J hangs up and you wonder what’s going on since he didn’t wake you up to take you with him. Maybe an unexpected meeting?

It takes about one hour to drive to the place and as soon as The Joker sees you, he scoffs.

“Finally! Took you long enough,” he lectures and leads the way towards the huge metal doors separating the warehouse into smaller sections.

“Lots of traffic,” you remind him of the obvious issue and he slides the heavy gates to his left, encouraging a clueless Y/N to approach. “In here!”

“Why exactly am I…” and you stop as soon as you see the three men with gags in their mouths, kneeled and chained to each other.

You analyze them with sudden suspicion, waiting for an explanation.

“Let me introduce you to the fine gentlemen that tried to end my dominion over Gotham 4 months ago.”

Your chest goes up and down faster and faster because you understand what The Joker implies.

“Took weeks to catch them all and I already got rid of the small pawns, but these are the masterminds behind the whole plan that started with Kai’s demise and you almost losing your life.”

J leans over and grumbles in your ear:

“The one in the middle killed your boyfriend.”

You’ve been working for him for a decade, yet your boss doesn’t remember seeing such a wild look in your eyes.

He takes your gun from your holster and wraps your fingers around it.

“Would you like to try your new gun now?”

No answer comes from the petrified Y/N.

“I’ll wait outside.”

The Joker distances himself from the area and goes back to his couch, waiting for your return. The gun shots echo in the stillness seconds later and it takes a while until you go and sit by him without saying anything.

You wipe your sweaty forehead and intensely glare at him until he turns his head towards a grateful Y/N.

“Thank you,” you hold his hand and he squeezes it back, silent for once. “Thank you,” you brush your lips on his tattooed knuckles because he has no idea what today means to you.

But The Joker does know.

What’s the point of having a wife if you can’t repay back 10 years of loyalty at least once?

Actually, work wife.

There’s truly no difference.


	3. Chapter 3

5 months later

“Are you just gonna sit there the whole time?” The Joker splashes the water in the Jacuzzi while you look outside, not even hearing his words. “Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Oh, I’m watching everything to make sure it’s safe,” you finally pay attention and analyze the surrounding buildings from behind the smoky windows belonging to the second floor of “Serenity Day SPA”; it’s one of the businesses J owns, primarily operated for money laundering. The rooms upstairs are never used by anybody else except him: he seldom visits and actually uses the amenities since the place is very luxurious. 

“We have 15 men with us, I think we’re OK. Come on, lose the suit and relax,” The King of Gotham requests your presence in the hot tub because you seem absent minded today.

“I’m good,” you mumble and continue to search for any signs of suspicious activity out there even if so far nothing seems out of the ordinary.

“You know how much I hate to extend my invitations twice,” he watches you take a deep breath and gaze his way.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” you come up with the easy excuse and J gestures towards the variety of dressers containing bathing suits, swimming shorts, towels and fuzzy robes.

“Use theirs!”

“Ughh,” the exasperation reaches his ears and it’s not approved.

“Maybe one of these days you could just, you know, drop the attitude?! Only a mere suggestion; don’t lemme stop you from annoying me!” The Joker growls as you choose a random attire and start changing behind the panel as fast as you can, hoping he will shut up.

“Don’t lemme stop you from annoying me” speech is usually between 10–15 minutes long and you are certainly lacking any eagerness to put up with it.

“Why do I have to get in there?” you protest his orders and emerge into a floral bikini bottom with the matching bra.

“Because,” J huffs and completely lowers himself in the bubbly water for a few seconds, then gazes your way. “I must say Y/N, you look decent for a fossil.”

“I’m not a fossil!”

“You turned 36 last month. Basically ancient for my scaling system,” J taunts and smooths his wet hair, thinking that the usual extra feistiness is not present within his work wife today. You step in the Jacuzzi, half afloat until you reach his side.

“Your scaling system sucks, that’s why you don’t have a steady girlfriend,” you lift one of your eyebrows in order to underline the accurate reality.

“I only need company that takes care of my needs for the night; you take care of the rest so I’m fine,” he pauses and waits for the sour remarks to continue but they don’t.

You’re awfully quiet, definitely preoccupied by more important matters than the usual dispute he’s searching for.

“What’s the matter?” J elbows a distracted Y/N.

“Today…” and your voice cracks,” today is Kai’s birthday.”

That’s why she’s like this, he thinks and moves closer to you.

“Wow, the first snowflakes,” you sadly smile and change the subject because you feel you’re suffocating.

“Yeah, I like winter,” he adds on the topic in his usual way of dealing with things. “Much easier to get rid of dead bodies.”

“So charming,” you candidly reprimand. “That’s why women are flocking from all sides; one better than the other.”

“Precisely,” the insolent Joker is glad you’re getting absorbed into his little game; it kind of feels a major part of his daily life is missing if you two don’t clash and he’s aware he has to put in extra work today in order to obtain the desired outcome.

“Please enlighten me so I can prove a point: when is the last time you went on a date?” you turn towards him, interested in what he has to say.

“Ummm… three nights ago,” J immediately replies.

“One night stand is not a date! As usually, I had to get rid of her in the morning and I’m getting tired of taking out the trash,” you scoff, irritated. “You should have kept the girlfriend you had two years ago; she wasn’t bad.”

“I got bored,” he dismisses your suggestion and stretches his legs under water while you have more to include on top of the earlier statement:

“It’s exciting to see you’re satisfied with bimbos that think you have a stamp collection to show them at the penthouse or drunken ones that you marry on a whim at the sham drive-thru chapels around town.”

“Yes, it is exciting indeed,” The Joker winks and Y/N is done with his crap.

“You know what J ?!!”

Oh boy, here she goes! J grins because he’s getting what he wanted:

“You know what J ”speech is usually between 8–14 minutes long and by far his favorite; you usually blur out a list of judgments about his behavior that you don’t agree with and it falls on deaf ears, yet it’s worth it.

“Mister J,” Frost suddenly knocks at the opened door. “Sorry to interrupt but the weather forecast is showing an imminent snow storm about to hit Gotham in less than 3 hours. Traffic will be hectic since everyone would want to finish what they have to do before roads are closed. Would you like to leave now in order to avoid that?”

The Clown Prince of Crime smacks his lips, debating:

“I suppose so,” then addresses you: “Hold that thought, Y/N! You know how much I love to hear your opinions,” the sarcastic smirk makes you shake your head in annoyance. “I guess is better if we bail than having to deal with the craziness on the streets. Tell the crew we’re out of here in 10!”

“Yes sir!” Frost complies and you discern the shouted instructions on his way downstairs.

“Right when I was getting comfortable,” J sighs and sinks under the fizzy water one last time while you’re already getting out of the Jacuzzi.

“You can continue at the Penthouse,” you remind the King of Gotham he actually has the same hot tub at home.

“I guess I can,” the grouchy voice mumbles.

The Joker watches as you dry yourself with a towel, his eyes lingering on the only tattoo you have: the Japanese kanji rows inked on your back containing the phrase you’ve been using for years as an inside joke.

He stalls leaving the steamy ambience for a few more seconds before finally abandoning his temporary oasis.

You switch back to your black suit behind the bamboo panel and come out to help him finish up. The white, furry winter coat is placed on his shoulders while J elects to modify the plan:

“Y/N, I want to spend some time at my cabin instead of returning to the Penthouse.”

“Are you sure?” you start walking beside him, surprised at his choice. “With the snow storm you’ll be trapped there for days.”

“It’s fine; I’ll have you to keep me company,” J brushes off any projects you might have like he always does.

“I rather stay at my apartment.”

“No, you’re coming.”

“Seriously J, I don’t want to be dragged in the middle of nowhere. I like that place in the summer and that’s pretty much it,” you try to make him forsake his ideas and pay attention to the stairs you’re both descending.

“I’ll let you know when I give a damn,” The Joker scoffs, signaling some of the men waiting along for his passing to follow.

The door leading towards the secluded parking lot on the north side of the building is already opened and you walk outside, mad he doesn’t care you’re not in the mood to visit that accursed cottage during the crazy weather that will soon hit the area.

Two henchmen are already waiting by their cars and you slowly blink for a few seconds, feeling the snowflakes melting on your face. The faint sound of the bullet shrieks by your ear and you instinctively turn towards J, his eyes already looking down at the fresh wound that’s beginning to stain the white coat.

“What the..?!” he touches the blood in disbelief, suddenly out of breath. You are quick to push him against the nearest SUV, screaming at the others:

“Sniper!!! Get down!”

The goons already outside scatter behind the cars in the parking lot and you help The Joker sit on the ground and press on the oozing injury, the red spot exponentially growing each time he forcefully inhales.

“Shit…” he moans and you gesture at the men that didn’t make it out of the building, including Frost.

“Stay inside! There’s a sniper!!”

“What do we do?” Jonny yells and you shout back:

“Everybody regroup inside!! Stay low and sneak out through the other side of the property! Go in groups of 3 and sweep the surrounding places, maybe we can catch whoever did this! Take the rest of the team and call for reinforcements!”

“You need help?” Frost peeks from behind the curtains, ready to aid if required.

“I’m OK, I don’t need an escort!”

You open the car door and help The Joker crawl in the back seat; he’s wheezing louder and louder due to the painful lesion.

“Keep pressure on it!” you gather his coat around the wound as much as you can, this way it soaks up the blood. “I’ll take you to the doctor; just hang in there, alright?” an apparent composed Y/N creeps on the driver’s side, twisting the keys in the contact.

“It fucking hurts,” J groans and his acknowledgment makes your heart beat faster:

The Joker has a high tolerance for pain so if he says that it hurts, it means the discomfort is beyond what a normal person would be able to tolerate. 

“Hang tight!” you begin to drive, keeping close to the concrete wall enclosing the parking lot, watching him through the rear view mirror. “I’ll take the back streets,” you mumble and immediately accelerate, taking a sharp turn once the protection of the wall is over. The tires screech under the abrupt impact and you speed towards Madison Avenue, having to distance yourselves from the shooting range as soon as possible.

“How are you doing?” you gaze at him and the only answer is a growl.

The Joker’s teeth are clenched together; he couldn’t say a word even if he’d wanted to. 

You nervously squeeze the steering wheel, paying attention to the road again. 

“I think I can make it there under 40 minutes,” the affirmation makes him shiver: the pain is becoming so unbearable he feels he’s going to pass out.

Another turn on Coldwell Boulevard and the last thing J hears prior to losing consciousness is Y/N’s warning:

“Hey, don’t fall asleep!”

**************

The Joker gradually opens his eyes, trying to adjust to reality. You’re sleeping in the recliner close to his bed and the venue seems familiar: it’s the same private clinic you were taken after the unfortunate events that left such a deep scar on your cheek. He’s groggy and a bit confused, a typical secondary side effect of all the medications present in his body.

“Nurse…” J whispers and has to gather his strength to say it louder since you didn’t hear him. “Nurse! Wake up!”

This time the exhausted Y/N promptly snaps out of her troubled dreams, gasping when she realizes The King of Gotham is glaring her way.

“You’re awake,” you jump out of the recliner and move close to him, so happy to see he’s out of danger you actually smile.

A rare occurrence these days.

“Why are you wearing scrubs?” J licks his lips and you reach for the cup of iced water on the cupboard, offering some to the patient.

“We’ve been here for 2 days: it’s easier to blend in, just in case,” you explain while waiting for him to finish drinking.

“What’s the verdict?” he taps his fingers on the pillow, seeking your company for the requested briefing. You lie down next to him and relay the main points to the weakened Joker:

“By the time we arrived, you’ve already lost a lot of blood. You had a clean wound: the bullet went right through; almost pierced your kidney, only half an inch away from disaster. They couldn’t stop the bleeding and I was scared you’re not going to make it,” you gulp and touch his face, upset it was such a close call.

“Why? Were you afraid you’ll be unemployed?”

“Basically. You pay well.”

“True,” J utters. “Do we know who did it?”

You remove your hand, the immediate change in attitude making him aware you’re displeased.

“So we do know,” he figures, wondering why you look at him like that.

“Yes.”

Perfect silence; you are flustered, that’s for sure.

“Well?” J yawns, tired and drained.

“Do you remember your last flame? The one I got rid of 5 days ago?” 

No answer. Because he can kind of tell where this is heading.

“Apparently, she didn’t like that you threw her away the next morning so she did something about it. Thank God she can’t aim that well, I’m sure she tried for the head.”

J is speechless since he was expecting a different outcome.

“The Great Joker, taking down by one of his one night stands. How stupid is that?!” you hiss and try to calm down the urge to strangle him.

“That is quite stupid, my reputation would be ruined,” he tries to joke since he knows he’s going to hear about it forever. “Is it fair to assume she’s not around anymore?”

“I made sure,” you frown, scooting closer to him again. “If you were planning to sleep with her again, she’s not available.”

He grabs your waist, loving the bitter expression written all over your being.

“Any other news?” he changes the subject, delighted you’re so worked up.

You cut him some slack for the moment, sharing your observations:

“I think one of the nurses likes you. She keeps on lifting your hospital gown, checking out the area.”

“Probably to see if I need my bandages changed,” J grins, satisfied with the little confession.

“Or maybe checking out your components,” you honestly reply.

“Components!” he chuckles and regrets it the next second: the sore wound is definitely there.

The door opens and you grumble in a low voice:

“That’s her, that’s the nurse.”

“Quickly, fix my hair,” The Joker demands and you comb the green locks with the tip of your fingers. “How do I look?”

“Like crap,” you sigh, unable to repair too much due to the present misfortune.

“Dammit,” he completely covers the both of you with the sheet, shielding the intimacy of the discussion from any prying ears.

“Miss Y/N, it’s not safe to be this close to a recovering patient with a raw injury. There’s the risk of infection. Could you please go back to your recliner?” the woman requests out of concern for the medical staff’s own safety: she knows that if something happens to The Clown Prince of Crime while under their care, they will pay for the consequences.

“Make me!” you sneer from under the covers, irritated with her plea.

“Yeah, make her!” J growls also and it’s a red flag for the nurse to leave before one of you snaps. The care giver leaves some medications on the cabinet, planning to return later.

“Try not to contaminate me,” he pouts and you roll your eyes. “I already sacrificed a lady’s interest in me by siding with the competition.”

“You’re so full of it,” you kick his knee, careful not to touch the stitched laceration.

He has no clue how much it terrified you that he almost died on Kai’s birthday; it would have been unbearable to think each year at the same date about two men you care about no longer around.

*************

After 3 weeks

The Joker was released from the clinic yesterday and went straight to the cabin in the Willow Woods, hauling a vexed work wife with him against her will. You sure detest the place in the winter time; there are days it snows so much you can’t even walk to the shed to restart the generator. But he said the fresh air will make his recovery a piece of cake and for once you didn’t argue with the bullshit reason.

You are so worn out after taking care of J 24/7 that the tempest going on outside doesn’t bother you. Y/N dozed off one hour ago and the strong wind sweeping the wilderness slams branches, snow and frozen leaves against the windows.

A strand of your hair is being tugged by the crabby King of Gotham; he has insomnia and of course he sneaked into your bedroom after drinking 2 cups of chamomile tea that did absolutely nothing.

“Y/N, are you awake?”

You barely make eye contact, the brain fuzzy from all the restlessness you dealt with in the past weeks.

“My back is stiff,” The Joker indirectly implies a massage would be more than welcomed.“Did you hear me?” he pokes your shoulder when you nap again.

“Why won’t you let me rest?” you finally blur out, wishing you were at your apartment and not in the boonies at the cottage you can’t stand.

“I can’t work out for a while and my bones are cracking every move I make. Plus, I can’t sleep because your dumb tea didn’t work. Are you gonna do anything about it or not?!” he loses patience describing his hardships to the woman that should know all about them.

“Don’t nag me!” the unexpected response containing what J usually throws at you makes him search his mind for a sour admonishment.

In the meantime, you get on your knees and slap his side so he can turn face down, beginning to rub his back along the dragon tattoo since he won’t quit bugging you.

“That feels awesome,” he grunts when your hands work around the tight muscles keeping him up at this hour of the night.

“Jesus, one knot after the other!” you blur out frustrated, trying to relax the stubborn tissue under his skin.

“Told you I‘m stiff; I wasn’t lying. Keep going,” he motivates the grumpy Y/N. “Aren’t you happy that you still have a boss to take care of?”

He senses your fingers stopping, then restarting and something that sounds like sniffling.

“Are you crying?” the muffled question arises from under the pillows.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your fleece pajamas, watching the flames in the fireplace crackling in the darkness. The Joker reaches his left hand backwards and grabs yours, pulling you next to him again. There’s no resistance from your part and his face moves on top of the cushions again.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” you bite your cheek and refuse to say more on the topic.

You don’t really have to though; The Clown Prince of Crime is neither stupid or blind.

“I’m still here old girl,” he emphasizes due to his twisted desire to get you out of your misery while still being a jerk.

“I’m not old,” you defend your 36 years of existence like you always do.

“According to my standards you are,” the silver teeth maliciously glisten 2 inches away from Y/N’s lips.

“Your standards are pure crap,” you sulk and he wraps your arms around his neck, compromising at last:

“Probably…” and your sudden kiss takes him by surprise and in the same time it doesn’t.

That’s new, The Joker thinks and enjoys the opportunity of making out with the feisty Y/N that clings to him so tight he cannot move.

“I think I’m still out of commission,” he purrs in between kisses and you couldn’t care less.

“That’s fine,” you smile and give him a second to catch his breath.

“Wait…Wait…” J carefully debates. “Ummm…On the brighter side, I believe we might be in luck but you’ll have to do the hard work giving my present situation.”

“That’s fine too,” you accept his proposal and lean over to whisper:

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.”

************** 

7 months later

“Did you get what I asked for?” The Joker barks at the smuggler that’s taking too long searching the metal crates from the last shipment received yesterday.

“Yes, Mister Joker, just one moment. I know it’s in here, I saw it myself.”

“I don’t have a moment!” the impatient King of Gotham retaliates and the dealer picks up the pace, relieved to finally discover the item buried inside the box.

“Here you go Mister Joker,” something resembling a booklet is being handed to J.

The opulent wedding ring beaded with purple and green diamonds stands out on The Joker’s finger and the smuggler’s eyes get big.

“Oh, you got married Mister Joker?!”

“Yeah, two days ago,” he gets ready to bail since he’s late for his own honeymoon trip to Las Vegas.

“Congratulations!” the guy has nothing better to do than offer his best wishes.

“Why??” J’s mood switches for the worse. “You think I got a good bargain out of it?! I didn’t !! She’s been nagging me for 11 years; I just made it official !”

“I’m sorry Mister Joker,” another wrong reply escapes the dealer’s lips.

“Why are you sorry, hm?” the pissed Prince of Crime raises his voice. “You think I can’t handle my own wife?!”

You are waiting for J next to your car, playing with the bottom of your short summer dress. There was certainly a commotion going on until a few moments ago when the noises stopped; you’re about to check on it but J is coming out of the building, brushing pieces of glass off his clothes.

“What happened?” you inquire.

“I got you a present,” he avoids replying and gives you the booklet.

“What is this?” you open it, confused. Nothing but a bunch of stamps neatly organized inside.

“A stamp collection, Y/N! You always complained that when I brought girls at the Penthouse I said I have a stamp collection to show them when in the matter of fact I didn’t. So I fixed the issue: these are actual stamps I can show them; very valuable: I paid one hundred thousand dollars!” he boasts in front of an annoyed Mrs. Joker.

“No girls, no stamps!” you flip the expensive collection straight into the trash can near you.

“Wha’… What are you doing?!”

“No girls, no stamps!” you repeat, urging him to get in the vehicle.

“How dare you?!“ he has an outburst that you don’t pay attention to. “You’re fired!”

“No I’m not,” you calmly go around the car since you’re the designated driver for the vacation. “Come on, get in,” you reach from the driver’s side to open the other door for him. ”Traffic will be horrible across the Bridge of Angels. We have to leave,” you pat the passenger’s seat and J is hesitating. “You really don’t need that stamp collection; you have me.”

“Pfft,” he huffs and enters the car, not wanting to admit to himself that his work wife is right.

Actually work wife and wife.

No matter what anyone says, now there’s finally no difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had people voting on my Tumblr account if they want The Joker and Y/N to end up together. All the answers were YES, not a single no. :)  
> I think I will make a Part 4 also.


	4. Chapter 4

The Presidential suite at Marion Hotel Casino, Las Vegas

6 days into your honeymoon

“This never happened to me before,” The Joker frowns while you lift your shoulders up, trying to be sympathetic:

“It’s ok, it happens to everybody at one point.”

“But I’m The Joker!” he reminds a relaxed Y/N that doesn’t seem to understand the severity of what just happened.

You squeeze the small, decorative pillow to your chest and lean over to kiss him:

“It has nothing to do with that; I’m telling you, it’s not that uncommon. Totally fine, don’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?!” J sarcastically grins. “I’m completely naked! Why do you have to rub it in my face?!”

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell anybody,” you fiddle with your ponytail for a few moments before reassuring: “Your reputation is safe with me.”

The Joker scratches his chin, straining to find a solution yet there’s none. His wife takes a deep breath and utters the words she’s been dying to say for the past 30 seconds:

“Checkmate!!”

“Ugh!” he kicks the chess board with his foot and the pieces fly all over the bed.

“You’re such a sore loser,” you laugh and start cleaning the mess he just made.

After rejecting the idea of playing strip poker because you knew J would cheat, you decided to go with chess since it will make the games entirely fair. In the last two hours he lost his sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, 3 gold chains, 5 rings and his Rolex and least but not last, his boxers.

“I still need payment though,” you carefully look around to make sure you’re gathering everything.

The Joker gestures towards the pile on your left containing his clothes and accessories, enunciating the obvious.

“I have nothing more to give, Y/N!”

“I’ll take one of your earrings,” you extend the palm of your hand and wait. He growls and detaches the diamond from his right ear, bitterly handing over the requested item.

“Thaaaank you,” you add the shiny stone to the rest of the stuff taken from the moody husband. “Let’s play some more,” you propose and he gets out of bed, done with the temporary entertainment that didn’t go his way.

“I think I’ll walk away while I still have an earring and a shred of dignity left.”

“Here’s your wedding ring back,” you offer the only thing you’re able to part with from the stack containing your winnings. He gives you his hand and you slide the band on his finger, closing one eye due to the discomfort in your jaw.

“Still bothers you?” J caresses the deep scar on your cheek and you peck his wrist.

“Yes, on and off; I’ll check once we’re back to Gotham,” you let yourself fall on the cushions and stretch.

“Wanna go gambling?” he crawls on top of you and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Not tonight; I will take a pain killer and mop around here until you return.”

“Are you sure?” The Joker grumbles, nuzzling to your neck.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you get ticklish when his hands pull down on your bikini, making it obvious he doesn’t want to leave right away.

“I want my special treatment,” and you attempt to explain why he’s not going to receive the grand price of the night:

“You lost.”

“I’m already naked so I want my special treatment!”

“But you lost,” you wiggle to escape while he keeps you trapped under him.

“Don’t nag me!” J impatiently rips the strap of your lacy bra, kind of annoyed he has to put in extra effort anytime he wants to have sex; what The King of Gotham usually got with no effort from his previous women came back to haunt him: karma is a bitch.

*************  
Shortly after The Joker went to the gambling VIP section downstairs, you decided to surprise him and join the fun. The pain medication worked and you feel reinvigorated: Y/N dolls up, dresses up with her favorite little black dress and high heels, ready to spend a few hours at the casino:

The Angelli brothers own the premises, their less than ordinary business partners having to use only special sections of the humongous building in order to avoid the public eye. The personnel working these areas are trained to handle the unusual guests, trusty employees that will not betray and disclose what is going on behind the closed doors.

You get out of the elevator and walk towards the VIP section, smacking your lips a few times in order to make sure the shiny lip-gloss is equality distributed. The “VIP Gold Members” neon sign hanging on the wall at the end hallway is a sign you’re close to the well-known destination.

You are about to enter the private sector when the sight of The Joker seating at one of the Poker tables with a girl in his lap abruptly halts your enthusiasm. One of the waiters carrying a tray with numerous cocktails almost bumps into you, promptly apologizing for a mistake it’s not his:

“I’m so sorry. Would you like a drink?” he offers a glass to an absent minded Y/N that couldn’t care less her dress nearly got ruined.

“No, I’m fine…” you stay behind the shiny curtains, spying on J.

5 minutes pass, 10 more, another 25.

She’s still on his knees, giggling and whispering things that make him smirk. You don’t have to be an expert in order to see what’s going on, especially since you’re a pro in reading his body language: after 11 years of being around him, you bet you can tell The Joker wants her.

Still… Why isn’t he telling the woman to get lost? He’s here with you.

You take a deep breath and prepare for a very unpleasant confrontation when the decision is unexpectedly put on hold: the girl hops from J’s lap, eagerly grabbing his arm after he stands up from the Poker table. You quickly hide behind some decorative trees and watch them pass by, already startled by his behavior.

Once they get in the elevator you emerge from your spot and follow, waiting to see which floor J will take her to. The light indicating the 35th level stops after a few seconds and your heart stops with it: when The Joker visits The Marion Hotel, he likes to use suite number 360B for his one night stands.

How familiar you are with that room since you had to wait in front of it in the past, that way you could escort him back to his own quarters after he was done with his flings.

You are so tense on your way up to the 35th floor you unconsciously bite on the scarred cheek over and over again, ignoring the tender skin that’s hurting again. The bell ding gets you out of daze and you rush towards the end of the long corridor, dreading the imminent evidence of betrayal.

A few more steps and here you are, ready to enter the password on the electronic key pad that will reveal the truth about a marriage you thought might just work…until now. He didn’t change the code: “Batsy Is A Jerk” grants you access to the suite. You tiptoe on the hallway, careful not to make a sound. The darkness conceals your presence and the third bedroom facing the center of Las Vegas reveals what a stunned Y/N was hoping to never see: proof that she should have never altered the status of her relationship with The Joker.

He’s by the large windows looking outside, the busy night life offering a show J got absorbed into while the girl he brought with him is undressing in a hurry.

“Do you want to use the bed?” she stomps the clothes scattered on the floor, planning to help him get rid of his.

“U-hum,” he keeps on glaring at the bright lights while the woman takes off his jacket, unaware they have company. She starts unbuttoning his shirt too when the voice coming from behind them makes her jump.

“Did you accidentally wander off in the wrong room on the way back to ours?”

You emerge from the shadows and The Joker’s eyes get big, completely surprised his wife caught him in such a compromising situation.

“Am I supposed to be on active duty on my own honeymoon and get rid of the trash afterwards?”

He’s not answering and you repeat the question:  
“Am I?…”

He watches you backing out until you disappear from his visual field, the slammed door a clear statement of the humiliating experience you’ve been subjected to. The girl doesn’t know how to react; J is not even listening to the words that are coming out of her mouth, numb from realizing he messed up with his carelessness.

Maybe he should have paid more attention and not bring the woman here? Take her somewhere else? Or maybe he shouldn’t have taken you for an idiot in the first place?

It just sort of happened; The Joker is so used with this life style he didn’t think twice about the fact that he’s not single anymore, actually quite unavailable due to the wedding band on his finger.

“Mister Joker,” she cups his face since he’s not blinking, “are you OK?” 

He keeps on staring at the blackness you vanished into, conflicted by the thoughts running through his head.

“Mister Joker,” the girl insists, “what’s wrong?”

His attention switches towards the person he brought there for some cheap fun: young and beautiful, the type he always goes for. No scars on her cheek, no sassy attitude to irritate him, no feistiness, no witty remarks. Just a doll in a perfect box, trained to please and satisfy her clients’ wildest desires.

But The Joker does like scars, ballsy attitude that annoys him, feistiness and clever comments: they’re all embodied in the only woman that managed to take care of everything he needed for countless years without ending up in a grave despite the dangers of such a risky job.

“Nothing is wrong,” he grumbles and abandons the girl where she stands, sprinting outside the room to try and catch up with you.

There’s no trace of Y/N on the corridor and J elects to return to the Presidential Suite because he’s certain you went back. 

He was mistaken: the place is empty.

“Call wife,” he uses voice command and Bigsby obeys without further issues since you changed the setting to his “Contacts” a few days ago when you got married from “work wife” to “wife”.

“Calling wife,” the electronic device dials your number.

You don’t pick up and he tries again, this time successfully getting a hold of Y/N.

“Where are you?” he groans, pacing around the bedroom; you are actually at the underground parking lot, getting ready to enter the car.

“Going away,” the news displeases J as much as his conduct displeased you.

“I’m waiting upstairs; I want to talk to you!” The Joker barks.

“I’m going home,” you stab the lock with the key, wanting to be as far as possible from the casino in the next 5 minutes.

“Get back here!!!” he has the nerve to act all pissed off as if you’re the one that did something bad.

The crackling sound at the other end of the line halts the conversation; you simply dropped your cell in the sewer under your SUV, leaving J hang in doubt until he comprehends the basic notion: the honeymoon is over.

*************

For 3 days he debated on his options: The Joker didn’t follow you to Gotham right away, swearing to himself he will party without his estranged wife for the rest of the planned vacation.

And he certainly did: J couldn’t sleep; Y/N wasn’t there to make his chamomile tea or keep him company until he would nap. Nobody to play strip chess with, nobody to nag him, nobody to fight with, nobody to guess what he wanted before he knew it himself, nobody to give him the special treatment he was secretly addicted to.

No work wife to tend to his whims and no wife to shower him with her affection that maybe was there for 11 years before they ended up together.

The Joker was such a party animal he went to a strip club located on the west side of the Casino and snoozed 15 minutes later after not sleeping for 24 hours straight. They didn’t dare wake him up and The King of Gotham found himself buried under bras and panties next morning, not remembering being more exhausted in his life.

He barely made it back to his quarters, burned out after the intense Vegas spree; somehow the City of Lights didn’t make him cope with your absence. That’s when J decided to ask The Angelli brothers for one of their men to drive him back home.

It was a full day trip back to Gotham and he arrived at the Penthouse around 9:32pm. He stayed there briefly, then went downstairs to your apartment ready to address the burning issue with Y/N; The Joker was sure it won’t be pretty since you weren’t one of his toys to bend and twist as he pleased.

Oddly enough, the entrance to the condo was cracked opened and he made his way in, suspecting the reason why: the place was empty. Completely empty. He stood in the doorway with his mouth opened, not believing you really left. J finally started roaming around the rooms, puckering his lips since there was no evidence of you ever being there for all those years: the apartment was spotless and you didn’t leave anything behind.

Except two items he found on your bedroom’s floor: your wedding ring placed on top of a picture depicting an image of the only tattoo on your body. The Joker gazed at the hand written note on the back of it and read the lines five times before stashing your message in his jacket:

“There’s nothing worse than doom coming from the self-fulfilling prophecy tattooed on your skin as a joke.”

The Clown prince of Crime knew it won’t be easy to find you, but he had to search for his missing bride anyway.

What is the point of having an empire if the woman that helped you build it is not there?

*************

After 2 months, Tuesday–11:12pm

“Where’s Y/N?” Jonathan Crane takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke high up in the air.

He came to the Penthouse for a business meeting with J and delivered the suitcase with valuable Liquid Dream vials himself.

“Away,” the elusive reply makes Scarecrow chuckle.

“Is she sick?” he continues the interrogation, pushing The Joker’s buttons on purpose and doesn’t hide it. “Nobody has seen her for a while.”

“No, she’s not sick,” J admits and crosses his legs on the couch he’s sitting across from Jonathan’s.

“Strange she’s not present since she never leaves your side,” Scarecrow taps the ashes from his cigarette against the ashtray on the coffee table next to him.

“Don’t try your psychology crap on me, Crane!” The Joker gets aggravated at Jonathan’s persistence.

“I have five master degrees in psychology and I like to use them on daily basis due to habit. People do a lot of things out of habit,” he nonchalantly concludes and The King of Gotham sneers:

“Cut your crap! If you have something to say, say it!!”

“I know where Y/N is,” the prompt answer makes the green haired man narrow his eyes; he didn’t expect this reply.

“Are you playing games Crane?” J’s lack of patience immediately emerges.

“No,” Scarecrow starts smoking again and warns because he noticed the insane look in The Joker’s eyes. “If you kill me, you won’t have access to any of my merchandise; I’m the only one that knows the formulas. Plus I’m the only one that knows where she’s hiding.”

“How so?” J mutters through his clenched teeth.

“Y/N came to see me about 5 weeks ago: the pain in her jaw was becoming unbearable and it turned out the metal bolts in her gums were starting to shift the bones. I performed a surgery and took out two of them in order to alleviate the pressure. I told her the scar on her cheek will be even more pronounced after it heals, but I do have a serum she could use that would make better. You know what she said?”

The Joker is contemplating murder while Scarecrow goes on:

“That she likes that scar because it reminds her of the only man that loved her. You don’t have to be a genius to know she’s referring to Kai. Believe me, it’s upsetting I didn’t make the list either; I’m sure you remember we dated for 3 years after she started working for you.”

“So what’s your point?” J’s crabbiness reaches new levels due to the unexpected memento.

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it’s not her style to jump from man to man and she is very careful in choosing her partners. I don’t presume to know Y/N’s heart, but if she had feelings for her boss for a long time she decided not to act on them,” Jonathan hints at the problem without sugar coating his insinuations. “And then something happened that triggered a change, despite the better judgment of staying away. Maybe when you got shot last year?… Perhaps she got scared you almost died and just went with it?”

“Are you lecturing me Crane??!!” The Joker raises his voice and Jonathan takes it down a notch.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Scarecrow carefully stirs the dialogue since he’s walking on egg shells now.

“WHERE. IS. MY. WIFE ?” J pauses after each word, fed up with the speech.

“I’m betraying her trust by telling you, but I’m doing it out of concern for Y/N; she is not very well after the miscarriage. I mean, physically she’s fine; mentally…” and he lifts his shoulders up,”… not sure. She won’t talk to me about anything.”

The Joker didn’t hear the rest of the sentences after the word “miscarriage.”

“What miscarriage?!” he mutters, dumbfounded; he had no idea you were pregnant. 

“I’m sure you know what that implies,” Jonathan takes a deep breath and divulges your location: “If you want to see her, she’s at my Creek Hill property. I don’t use that place and I let her stay there until she figures out what she will do next.”

J gets up from the couch, snapping at Scarecrow’s confession:

“I would thank you but due to the fact you didn’t tell me sooner you’ll have to consider the fact that you’re walking out of here alive the best gratitude I can offer!!”

The Joker snatches his car keys from the table, heading towards the elevator.

“Now get the fuck out of my house, Crane!!!” he threatens the guest still sitting on the sofa. “I’m sure you can find the way out!”

************** 

J drove his purple Lamborghini to Creek Hill in the middle on the night and he encountered another major issue: Scarecrow forgot to mention the huge property is gated. He circled the whole estate four times, trying to find a gap in the fence. There was none.

The Joker wanted to jump over the fence, but it was electrified so he had no other choice besides the extreme action of driving his Lamborghini through it. He cussed all the way up to the top of the high ground, the customized vehicle not made for the steep, rocky terrain. He could hear the bottom of the car scraping against the sharp stones and lost his temper: J stopped and got out, dropping F–bombs as he assessed the severe damage to his beloved car. It would definitely need serious repairs to fix the dents and scrapes that made it look like it escaped a tornado.

He continued his journey on foot towards the lighted house he could see in the distance, using the cell phone’s flashlight app to make sure he won’t fall in a ditch. Took The Joker a good 40 minutes to reach his goal, but he finally made it to his destination.

************

You are standing on the porch, listening to the sound of crickets and frogs that gets pretty loud out here: no city noises to diminish its intensity. You take another sip of Coke and toss the container in the trash can by the swing, getting ready to call it quits for the night.

“I’m sure you’re aware I require two weeks notice if my tenants decide to leave the building I own,” the familiar voice freaks you out. You turn around to look at The Joker, alarmed to see he’s a few steps away. Making a run for it seems like a great idea, except for the fact that your husband is blocking the door that is the only escape plan you have for the moment. All you want to do is dart inside the house and barricade yourself until he leaves.

“How’s your jaw?” he asks, referring to your bandaged cheek still healing after the surgery Jonathan was talking about.

“Why are you here?” you step away from him, mad from realizing Scarecrow couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I have nobody to make my tea,” J blurs out because it’s the first reason that popped in his mind.

“I’m sure one of your girls will be happy to oblige,” you remind him he has plenty of choices.

“I want you to make it,” he cracks his neck and you gulp, anxious from the unexpected encounter. You’re so frustrated your hideout was discovered you can’t think clearly. The Joker passes his fingers through his hair, casually admitting to the facts: “If you think you’re in pain, consider this: I didn’t get laid since you abandoned me in Las Vegas. It’s a miracle I can still walk.”

Instead of a smile following the candid confession, all The Joker sees in your eyes is hate. Pure hate. It didn’t lower your defense like he was expecting.

“Why did you go with that girl?” you lift your chin up, frustrated he has the audacity to joke about such a serious matter. “If I wouldn’t have shown up, you would have fucked her.”

“Yes,” J categorically agrees because it’s better to go with the truth giving his present circumstances.

“And then come back to our room and sleep with me.”

“Yes,” he takes a deep breath and holds it in.

“That’s disgusting!!!!! And humiliating!!!!” you scream so loud it shakes him out of apathy. You’re not really supposed to open your mouth until your wound heals, that’s why the bandage is starting to get stained with blood: your stitches are pulling at the flesh they keep sewed together.

“I didn’t care about what you did before we were together, but once you were mine I expected some loyalty!” you shout, unable to stop the tirade and the dressing covering your scar is getting redder. “Why did you ask me to marry you, hm? It’s such a cruel thing to do if it means nothing!”

“I asked because it seemed that’s what you wanted,” J finally exhales, not accustomed to have someone lashing out at him.

“You think you did me a favor?” your voice breaks under the burden of deception.

Why did he bother to come if he has nothing to say?

Your husband doesn’t have any other aces up his sleeve, but he wants you to know at least one thing:

“I’m sorry you lost the baby.”

J sees the emotions you’re trying to hide, the painful reality settling in even more since the man you conceived with is right there and actually lost his baby too. Not that it means the same to him as it does to the heartbroken Y/N.

“I’m gonna kill Jonathan!” you sniffle and start crying, blaming him for telling all your secrets to The Joker.

“Please do,” he fastly approves of your idea. “I can’t stand that arrogant asshole!”

The King of Gotham takes advantage of the opportunity and approaches, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

You don’t hug him back and he uses one hand to dig in his pocket and take out your wedding ring, figuring there’s no point in holding back now:

“If the scar reminds you of the only man that loved you, keep the ring to remind you of the one that asked you to marry him and fucked up.”

Jonathan told him about that too??!!

You start bawling your eyes out, more than upset Scarecrow was a complete snitch while J firmly squeezes you to his chest, convinced about one thing: he never wanted a woman more.

The Joker doesn’t need his work wife or his old girl back.

Just his wife.


	5. Chapter 5

You don’t show any signs you want to claim the wedding ring and The Joker returns it to his pocket, still having one hand wrapped around his grieving wife.

“You should go; it’s really late,” Y/N keeps on sniffling and he tries to hold on to her when she leaves his embrace.

J has a lot on his mind for the moment, yet the fact that you didn’t hug him back bothers him more than it should.

“I’m not sure I can find the car,” he gestures towards the darkness. “I had to force my way in; you should probably tell Crane the fence needs repairs.”

“What did you do?” you sniffle and wipe your tears, upset it doesn’t seem you’ll be able to get rid of the person you want to see the least tonight. Or tomorrow. Or any other day.

“Nothing drastic,” the ambiguous reply worries you since it means the exact opposite. Unfortunately, you know The King of Gotham too well.

“I’m going inside,” J invites himself over for the night without any problem, heading towards the entrance.

“I don’t want you … h–here,” you stutter when the unexpected pain in your abdomen makes you lean forward.

“Are you ok?” he turns his head and you pass him by, barely holding in a painful moan.

“I’m- I’m good,” you press on your tummy and shiver under the pressure of the throbbing cramps.

You enter the house and stagger towards your chambers, The Joker following your hesitant footsteps because it’s obvious you’re not alright. You disappear behind the fifth door on the left and he approaches, peeking to see a pale Y/N swallowing two tablets from the vial hiding under her pillow.

“What’s that for?” he steps in the bedroom and you groan, not in great need for an audience to your issues.

“Pain,” you utter and reach for a clean towel from the pile resting on the table, wanting to make it to the bathroom before things get worse. J notices a few red drops trickling down your legs and you pull down on your nightgown.

“It’s fine… it happens after a miscarriage…” you whisper and limp towards the restroom when his question makes your heart sink.

“Do you know if it was a boy or a girl?”

“… … Boy…” you let The Joker know and soundlessly lock the bathroom door, feeling so miserable it’s hard to concentrate on anything else besides wishing he wasn’t here.

J hears the shower turning on and since you’re probably going to be a while, the curiosity takes the best of him and he searches under your pillow to see what kind of medications his spouse is taking.

One ampule contains white tables and the handwritten label makes your husband smack his lips in annoyance: “Take two tablets every 8 hours as needed for pain. JC”

“Good ol’ Doctor Crane,” he grumbles and reads the other label from the small container with brown capsules: “Take ONLY ONE capsule nightly. Do not take more than one. JC”

No names for the drugs, which means they must be Scarecrow’s own concoction.

J puts back the vials and feels something else stashed under the cushion; he lifts it and sees a tiny onesie with the embroidery: “Mommy’s Little Man” right next to an ultrasound picture of the baby you lost. He stares at them for a few seconds before covering them back with the pillow, making sure to leave everything in the same position.

The Joker figures he shouldn’t mess with Y/N’s cherished tokens and goes back on the hallway, camping in front of your bedroom on the cozy leather sofa. He lies down and closes his eyes, waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. J almost falls asleep when you finally show up in pajamas, hardly aware of the unwanted company you didn’t ask for.

He peeks at Y/N, analyzing every move as she changes the bloody bandage covering her stitched cheek; it all comes so natural to the woman that carefully tended to his wounds every time he was injured over the years. She pretty much mastered the ability of fulfilling his wishes and learned how to live in his world because frankly Y/N couldn’t imagine doing a different job besides the one she had for 11 years.

Who else acted and spoke for The Joker, guessing his mood and what he wanted done without him even opening his mouth? Sometimes Y/N could predict his intentions just by the way he blinked; dependable, trustworthy and loyal, she’s always been there…until she wasn’t.

The Clown Prince of Crime yawns, each passing second bringing him closer to greatly needed rest. J didn’t really sleep since you were gone, mostly stayed awake until he passed out from exhaustion: insomnia was bad and no way to cure it. It’s not that he didn’t considered brining another girl over to the Penthouse: not necessarily for sex, but because he can’t sleep alone.

The Joker’s logic worked wonders for once and he gave up on the idea; or was it something else?…

Even if you don’t share the same bed, he’s relaxed since you’re only a few steps away, yet it feels there’s never been more distance in between the two of you. He dozes off watching you comb your hair, completely out by the time the bedroom’s door is closed by a tearful Y/N.

Although her husband’s unannounced presence made things worse, she never thought it would bring such an unbearable sense of loneliness. 

*************

The Joker is finally waking up, his body stiff after not moving for 10 hours; he didn’t toss or turned, which is surprising since he’s a light sleeper. He rubs his eyes, the faint sun creeping through the blinds in the living room finally making him get up from his temporary accommodation.

“Y/N?” he calls your name and enters the empty bedroom searching for you. “Y/N?” J shouts louder and the quietness lets him know you’re not in the house.

The Joker wants to go outside and explore the surroundings, almost stepping out on the porch when he notices you’re walking alongside Scarecrow, too far away to hear the conversation but it’s clear you are having an argument. You’re probably mad at Jonathan for his betrayal of disclosing your hiding place and intimate details you didn’t want J to know about.

“You said you’re gonna kill him,” The King of Gotham snarls. “Do it!” he encourages his wife that seems more and more agitated while flaring her arms around. Out of the blue you punch Crane so hard his eyeglasses fly off his face and J snorts, loving the scene he was lucky not to miss. Jonathan bends over to collect his glasses and definitely has things to say himself, probably surprised at the unexpected action from your part.

You didn’t hold back and that must have hurt since the enraged Y/N can definitely inflict a lot of damage when she has to. Comes with the line of work.

You stomp in front of him and halt, maybe he blurred out something you didn’t like. That must be the reason since you’re obviously screaming at each other back and forth again. Scarecrow tries to light up a cigarette and you yank it out of his fingers, stepping on it multiple times. He’s frustrated at your behavior and forcefully grabs your hands, compelling you to sit down on the bench nearby. You attempt to get up and he holds you down, talking about God knows what until you seem to calm down a bit. He takes something out of his grey coat and you slap his hand away when it gets too close to your cheek.

The fact that you were yelling and opening your mouth caused the stitched jaw to bleed again and Crane simply wants to change your bandage. He tries four times before you let him do it, more than infuriated at his treachery. Doesn’t take him more than a couple of minutes to finish the task and helps you up afterwards, placing his coat around your shoulders: it’s chilly and you’re only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Doctor Jonathan Crane might have lost his mind, but he never lost his manners.

You reject the coat and he keeps on offering it back, the altercation escalating again as you approach the house. The Joker has the main door cracked, gazing outdoors from behind the thick drapes, bits and pieces of conversation reaching his ears now.

“… Is this enough?” you show Scarecrow your cell phone, panting.

“I don’t need your money, Y/N. You don’t have to pay me.”

“Is this enough for your services?” you insist and he sighs, aggravated.

“It’s more than enough.”

“Good!!!!” you press the button for the wire transfer about to happen and Jonathan’s phone immediately goes off alerting of the new substantial deposit into his primary account.

“You really didn’t have to,” Jonathan underlines, yet he’s aware of the reason why you did it.

“I don’t owe anything to anybody!!” you hiss as both pass by the house, heading towards his blue Ferrari parked next to the gates. “Where am I supposed to go now in such a short notice? I can’t stay here because you can’t keep your big mouth shut!” you reprimand his stunt from the previous night. “Fuck, I trusted you!” you shove him around and J can barely discern the dialogue now.

“I didn’t do it to upset you more, can’t you understand that? I was hoping you’ll have a change of heart. And stop pushing me!!” a vexed Scarecrow shrieks.

“What would you know about my heart, hm?” his statement makes you lose composure.

“Apparently not a damn thing!” is the last sentence The Joker hears since you’re distancing yourselves from his hiding place.

You didn’t return to the house for another hour, not in the mood to see your husband; after the altercation you had with Scarecrow, you lacked the energy to put up with the man you’re trying to avoid at all costs. Thankfully, J seemed to be gone from the premises but he’ll be back as long as he knows where to find you. The handwritten message found on your bed stressed the importance of making an apparent easy decision:

“Meet me at The Blue Dragon restaurant tonight at 7.”

The wedding ring on top of the scribbled napkin gave you goosebumps; how you wished you could wear it, especially since you really wanted to. Maybe The Joker knew that also, that’s why he left it there.

But what’s the point? You want something that can never be yours, not in the way you want it to be. And Y/N can’t compromise for less than what she always demanded without saying the words: to be shown the same loyalty she offered for years and thought meant more than 8 days of marriage.

**************

The King of Gotham is pleased to see you’re already sitting at the reserved table on the terrace belonging to The Blue Dragon diner; the second floor is closed for the evening at his demand. Easy to do because despite having an owner, the fancy restaurant actually belongs to The Joker; another business venue he uses for money laundering.

J is ready to make his entrance, but hesitates when he sees you suddenly touch your tummy, evidently uncomfortable.

“Did you see the scar on her cheek?” the bartender addresses the waiter appointed to take the virgin Long Iceland Tea you asked for at the dining table.

“It’s horrible,” the young man whispers. “Why isn’t she covering that up? Gives me the creeps.”

The Joker frowns, continuing to eaves drop on the discussing going on; he’s behind the wine rack and they certainly didn’t detect the green haired man’s company.

“She is scary, always makes me uneasy when I see her. Ugh,” the bartender shivers, pouring the mixed drink in a tall glass decorated with a yellow umbrella.

“How do you reckon she got the nasty cut?” the waiter’s innocent question prompts an inconsiderate answer.

“Maybe a blow job that went wrong?”

The two guys snort, laughing at the hilarious revelation that hastily ends the fun when the bitter Clown Prince of Crime growls:

“That’s not how my wife got the scar!”

You merely opened the menu and glare at the dishes listed in the booklet when you lift your head up, carefully listening: you could swear you heard the muffled sound of a silencer. You look around and nothing indicates towards the two murders that just took place out of pure outrage; the atmosphere is peaceful and quiet, no signs of struggle or unwanted attention.

You pucker your lips when The Joker comes over to the table, indifferently pulling his chair close to yours before sitting down.

“Why are you wearing that?” you want to hold in the remark and can’t; you find it irritating he has the nerve to display his wedding ring when clearly it’s nothing more than a trinket.

“Because I’m married,” he sneers and you have to continue:

“Are you?…”

J rolls his eyes, the immediate altercation imminent at this point.

“Unfortunately,” he mumbles and you get ready to leave. “However, I’m used to you. I don’t have time to train somebody new for the position you vacated.”

“Position?! I’m your wife!”

“You also work for me or have you forgotten the insignificant detail?” he lectures a stunned Y/N.

“I’m trying to forget as much as I can,” your firm tone of voice causes The Joker to strain not to unleash his temper upon the woman that got tangled into a relationship with him despite all the flaws she was aware of before they ended up together.

“Nothing happened in Vegas,” he sucks on his teeth, maybe wanting compensation for not cheating only because he was caught in the act.

“Us being a couple was such a huge mistake,” Y/N confirms her unhappiness, regretting showing up for the stupid dinner instead of concentrating her efforts on a swift fleeing plan. “I really thought it will work out…Not easy, but due to the fact that we knew one another for years gave me the false impression we could get by.”

The disappointment is so obvious J’s brain jumps at the opportunity of filling in the blanks:

“I guess we do tolerate each other,” he concludes your disclosure. “I don’t come with an instructions manual but if there’s a person on this planet that could write some rules on the topic it would be you. And the sex was great; who knew I was sitting on a gold mine all these years?”

“Oh God,” you gulp and he believes you don’t agree with his opinions. You reach for your purse and take out the vial with brown capsules that Jonathan prescribed, swallowing one with a few sips of water.

The Joker realizes you’re in pain: you dig your nails in the tablecloth, breathing louder as the ache intensifies.

“What’s going on?” he touches your arm and you stand up, collapsing back on the chair when your wobbly legs gave out.

You moan and J is not sure if he should stop you when you grab another capsule and almost spill the glass of water on yourself before drinking the clear liquid.

“The label on that medication says to take only one nightly,” he takes his cell phone out, getting ready to call Scarecrow.

“I-I don’t care,” you stammer while getting up again. “I have to go home before it gets worse,” you snatch your purse and The Joker helps you regain your balance after tripping on your own steps.

“Wait, I’m getting a hold of Crane,” he insists and you stop him.

“There’s nothing he can do. These are complications after a miscarriage that I have to deal with. The pills will make it better.”

“I’ll take you home then,” J offers and you’re not fond of the idea.

“It’s not necessary,” you continue to walk holding on to the walls, actually doubtful on your driving skills.

“Don’t nag me!!” he barks and this time it’s not meant as teasing, but as an evident warning.

The Joker lifts you in his arms against your will, surprised about how light you are: is it because you lost weight due to your health problems or barely an illusion since he didn’t hold you in a while?

***************

J is pacing around the living room at the Penthouse, slowly avoiding the numerous obstacles blocking his path: lavish and sumptuous decorations to match his over the top life style. He sure indulges everything his heart desires but the woman he’s carrying might be his most prized possession; she’s still asleep after passing out in the car thanks to the side effects of the strong medications ingested a couple of hours ago.

The Joker senses a faint movement from your part and resumes his walk, not even bored with what he’s been doing for the past 30 minutes.

“Why did you bring me here?” you mutter and instantly groan under the pressure felt in your abdomen.

“You said you want to go home so I brought you home,” J clarifies his evident action of twisting the meaning of your earlier request.

“You were supposed to take me to Creek Hill,” you whimper, dizzy and nauseated.

“That’s not your residence. This is your home, plus the empty apartment bellow,” J states with conviction. “Still available by the way,” he mentions and takes you upstairs to the master bedroom. “I’m sure you missed this bed,” he places you on your side and you curl up in a ball, squeezing a pillow to your stomach. You don’t feel good and the desire to fight is shadowed by your current physical condition.

The Joker cuddles next to you, sliding his hand under your tank top and caresses your tummy; you push it away, not wanting to be touched.

“There’s nothing in there,” you sniffle while moving further from him. J completely ignores your rejection and does it again, this time planning to say more.

“I miss my old girl,” he keeps his fingers on your skin despite Y/N’s eagerness to keep them at bay.

“I’m not your old girl, I’m your wife!”

“Whatever you call yourself these days,” The Joker lifts his shoulders up and you don’t find it amusing. “You want me to patch you up?” he changes the subject.

“Jonathan said I should leave the scar exposed as much as possible, this way it can dry a bit. Listen,” you sigh, ”I’m in pain and I find it hard to stay awake. Can you please take me to Creek H…”

“That’s dumb,” J interrupts. “It will make things worse.”

“There’s nothing worse than losing your baby and being traded for garbage by the man you love, so I’m sure I can manage with the rest,” the proud Y/N responds as a way to disguise her sorrow.

“I’m not trading you for garbage,” The Joker pulls you in his arms and you squirm when he kisses you, dismissing the intimacy. “I’m not trading my old girl for garbage, OK?” he pins your hands behind him, holding them captive. Who else would take advantage of a weakened Y/N if not him?

“You already did,” J is reminded and he takes a deep breath because you’re right and the truth can’t be distorted.

“I’ll never trade you for garbage in the future,” The King of Gotham rectifies his promise and you don’t buy his fake amendments.

“You forget I know when you lie,” the sad smile cues your husband to defend his oath.

“Bullshit. I’m sure you miss your job; I pay handsomely and I can guarantee th…”

“I miss you, not the job,” you close your eyes and keep them shut, finding it hopeless to try and open them. “And I don’t want to share; I never share,” you say and gradually doze off, the second capsule you swallowed at the restaurant taking its toll on your body.

“You don’t have to,” The Joker kisses your forehead and hugs you when you cling to him as a natural response to his vow.

Instead of sleeping without a care in the world because he had you with him, insomnia worsened for your husband. Such a weird occurrence, that’s for sure.

Who knew that having back something you thought you lost can worry a person to the point of obsessing all night about it?

**************

Next morning greeted J with bad news: one of his ammo shipments was compromised on its way to New York and he had to leave the penthouse very early in order to take care of the complication. He unsuccessfully tried to wake you up and just settled for a text message with the details of the busy day ahead typed on your own phone. The last line was typed in bold letters:

“Stay at the Penthouse.”

**************

The whole thing is a fiasco: 2pm and an exhausted Joker is still interrogating people that might shed some light on the disastrous events costing The Clown Prince of Crime about half a million dollars. He already killed two couriers that dared implying it wasn’t them who sold out the deal and the outside connection he’s debriefing at the present moment will probably share the same fate.

The goon keeps on nervously yapping about a bunch of nonsense, not having a clue about how to get out of the sticky situation. J has zero tolerance; he blankly stares at the man in front of him, totally immersed in his murderous scheme. No doubt this warehouse will become the scene of The Joker’s violent retaliation upon those who will be brought here throughout the next hours.

More useless excuses and the one sided conversation suddenly gets cut off by your cold voice coming from behind The Joker’s chair.

“Shut up! You’re annoying him!”

J didn’t see you sneak in and he turns around to see a grim Y/N dressed in one of her black suits, speaking for him like she always did in the past 11 years.

“You either spit out things he wants to hear about or we can make this very short,” your threat echoes in the interrogation room and is followed by eerie silence. The guy reprises his incoherent babbling; your presence didn’t make his quizzing any easier and he is surely digging his own hole.

The Joker’s demented smirk adds to the tense atmosphere: as you take the safety off your gun, he realized you’re wearing the wedding ring. It’s a clear sign of a lucky strike that compensates for today’s financial disaster: The King of Gotham got his wife back.

And his work wife.

What more can he wish for?


End file.
